A Raven To Collect Your Thoughts
by WriteForJoy
Summary: Reaper's life from a bird's eye.


**Spring**

* * *

I was a gift from your friend, and you didn't like me.

Your colleague thought it was funny, and called you things. You hit him and made sure you'd be rid of me by night fall.

You had a gun at my cage when we were alone in your room. I embraced the worst.

You kept me alive till dawn, regardless.

When you're not here, I take my time collecting your little space.

You had a simple room, enough for yourself, an arsenal of weapons, and medical supplies.

You always seem to come back in a bad mood, but you weren't the kind to throw tantrums.

No, you'd sit down on your bed and take off your mask. Smoke comes out.

You are not human.

But the things you do are human.

You tend to your wounds, you wince, you feel pain, and you cuss.

"What are you looking at?" You said to me.

I could reply, but you won't understand.

Your sleep had always been episodic. You wake from a bad dream and find yourself at the mercy of insomnia.

You stay silent, a silence so deafening, I could hear my little heart beating.

You begin talking to yourself, or was it to me? Until sleep takes you again.

The next day, you leave, but you opened my cage. You tell me to get lost.

I survive on many things, I could. But you, you are different.

I wanted to learn more about you.

I slip out of your window and went far away. I saw many others. They have their jobs to do, they wanted things.

They speak of this world. And I collect knowledge.

I saw fields of blooming flowers. Rivers. Seas. Far away from your reach, from technology's reach.

I've been to places no one knew existed. Places where nature governs, not men.

I spent long on my adventure, until I returned to you.

You seemed surprised.

Companionship was a foreign concept then, I guessed.

My cage was still there. You haven't changed.

You didn't welcome me, but you let me in.

You never shut the cage since then.

 **Summer**

* * *

We were both beings wearing a black coat. We hunt during the heat of the day, and return to our home at night.

Like tending to your own wounds, you have tended to mine.

You don't frighten me. A being of smoke. Of course your touch was gentle.

"Try to not die next time." You said in annoyance. I only blink at you.

You are not my master, but we share a bond.

Your colleague noticed our relationship, naturally. They were pleased.

They saw the potential. They wanted us together.

It was hard to imagine, what a bird could do for a formless being.

A pair of eyes was their answer.

Your people took me away.

They dug out my eyes and replaced them with…. Oddities. Technology.

They said it makes you see, what I see.

You accept this change silently, as always.

For the first time, you let me parch on your arm.

You stare at me as I stare back. Your mask reminds me of an owl.

Do you see yourself, how I see you now?

You brush my dark feathers with a familiar light touch. Reaper. They call you that, right?

Reaper is death, to all living things. Reaper brings winter, and kills warmth, and food.

Your body is cool in summer. A walking rain cloud. You block out the sunlight, and leave drops of blood behind.

We are partners now, aren't we?

I seek for you. And you pull the trigger.

 **Autumn**

* * *

You don't seem to be interested in a mate.

I have searched long. But the wilds are vast, and females were scarce. I have no chance this year.

But you. You humans. You mate for pleasure, don't you?

Then why don't you?

Your colleagues seem to be interested in you. But all you do was shut them off.

Like you do all the time. Always.

Perhaps you've lost the ability to. I wouldn't know. I don't care.

You are just queer that way.

Hades abducted Persephone to become his wife, but you don't even have the will to abduct one.

Some Reaper you are. My friend.

When the weather gets colder, perhaps you would wish for a little spring in your under kingdom.

Autumn comes. Crops mature and leaves fall. In the tales of old.

Your food, you shared. Tasted synthetic. It wasn't of the nature.

I bring you fresh blackberries from a distant, untouched forest.

You look at me and tried them. You said nothing.

I think you deserve some change in your life. Once every so often.

 **Winter**

* * *

The way you dance through your enemies so effortlessly like a moving cloud of death, so lonely in a bird's eye view from above.

When the dance concludes, you were the only one left.

Blood. So much blood. They sink into the snow. They melt snow and leave vapor.

But you. You toss away your weapons and continue forward.

It was elegant. Almost poetic.

Is that what they made you into, a machine? A physical manifestation of death.

Who, unmasks himself at night. And has problems sleeping.

We sit together and listen to the sound of snow falling, gentle.

"My job is not done yet." You told me. Told yourself.

You never seem to run out of enemies to kill. You kill both the good and the bad. According to human morals.

You siphon their life out of their corpses to feed. Is that what sustains you?

You are a predator. And you are just trying to survive.

I see it now.

"You are a good bird." You said.

I am but a scout for your bidding. So easily overlooked by modern men with their funny scopes.

Men who didn't believe in nature.

I caw at you for the first time as I land on your victorious figure.

You look around at the scene, the red and white.

"Let's go home." You say.

And home was but a blink away.


End file.
